


𝕕𝕖𝕝𝕔𝕒𝕠𝕤. lotr

by ayeathelas



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Post-Lord of the Rings, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21826060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayeathelas/pseuds/ayeathelas
Summary: ʙʀɪɴɢᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴄʜᴀᴏs◾️ Prophesied as nothing but a trouble maker, Hlíf is used to living in the shadow of his brother, the chief of his tribe of Easterlings. He's completely fine with being the little, irresponsible brother who messes things up constantly by playing tricks on his brother's advisors, but destiny doesn't always share the same ideals.Hlíf's home is under attack-again. It seems like King Elessar is always picking on the Easterlings when spinning the magical wheel of cities to take over. The Easterlings are tired of this endless game. So they send a messenger to meet the king. And it just so happens to be him.Hlíf is reluctant to accept this burden, but time is running out. Word gets out that a siege on Klûntîg, their current capital, is planned. No one wants this to be a repeat of last time-not even him.It's going to take a whole lot of courage and seriousness to get this job done.
Kudos: 3





	1. 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: As a fanfiction author, I do not own any of the characters created by J. R. R. Tolkien. However, I do own Hlíf and his family, and I have taken a lot of creative liberty when describing the Easterling way of life, as I haven't read much on it myself. I do hope to make it as close to what Tolkien may have desired as possible.

_in which a young easterling finds himself on a quest._   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


characters:

  
  


**hlíf'hûr • hlíf of the hûr, son of altan of the hûr**   
_/feh•reck hooor/_

the boy who carries the weight of a nation

"why are we hated so? what have they against us? against me?"

**killiç'çina • killiç of the çina, son of kólbiç of the çina**   
_/keel•ees see•nah/_

the warrior with the guilt of a nation

"i failed your father, hlíf. i failed my brothers. but i will not fail you."

**enq'imahd • enq of the imahd, son of emi of the imahd**   
_/ehnk ee•mah•dh/_

the mother hen

"you are not getting hurt on my watch."

**altan'hûr • altan of the hûr, son of altir of the hûr**   
_/ahl•tahn hooor/_

the deceased leader †

"fate has not smiled kindly upon you, little one."

**alulf'hûr • alulf of the hûr, son of altan of the hûr**   
_/all•ughlf hooor/_

the older brother

"how much do you bet that i can make the first woman we see fall in love with me?"  
  
  
  
  
  
 **kîta'** **çina** **•** **kîta of the** **çina, wife of killiç of the çina**  
 _/kih_ _•t_ _a see_ _•_ _na/_

the loving aunt †

"if i were you, i'd heed your mother's word."

**yilkiz** **'hûr** **• yilkiz of the** **hûr, wife of** **altir of the hûr  
** _/yeel_ _•_ _keez hooor/_

the batty grandmother †

"you've magic you've never heard of in you."

**elien olororis** **• elien olororis, wife of altan of the** **hûr  
** _/elee_ _•_ _en oh_ _•loh_ _•rees/_

the dear mother †

"i know you have the weight of our people on your back, but find the right people to help you and the weight will be easier to bear."

"how much more suffering can our people take?

does it take a revolution for the others to listen?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


additional characters:

estel/aragorn II/king elessar telcontar

arwen undomiel

éomer king

éowyn

éothain

gandalf the white

thranduil oropherion

legolas thranduilion  
  
more to come ** _!_**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"you are our last hope, hlíf. should you fail, your people will string your head on a tree when you return."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


what else is a young, motherless boy to do?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


playlist

coming soon ** _!_**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_and so the story begins..._ **


	2. 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦!

**_THE AIR WAS FILLED_** with the stench of burning flesh. Bodies were rotting in the unbearable heat.

The screams of those who were in pain were almost as loud as the roaring of the fire's flame, flickering and lapping at anything near them, trying to consume everything in its path.

" _Tirun positii!_ Stay in place; hold your ground," a man shouted amidst the chaos. "We're not down yet! We can still win this!"

Herds of giant mumaks trampled over soldiers as the legion of warriors pushed forth.

The man looked forward over the crowds of people. The blood drained from his grime and gore covered face.

They had brought in reinforcements. His army was already weakened from the fierce fight. They wouldn't stand a chance against them.

The man hoped Sauron had a plan or was coming up with an alternate fast.

He glanced towards the person leading the procession against them. Elessar. Isildur's heir. The most recent in a long line of tyrannical kings.

He was the spitting image of his father. He would be no different when dealing with his people.

He shook his head and grabbed the reins of his horse. Turning around to face his own army, he shouted, "Show no mercy as they have done towards us! Today, we _will_ win our home back!"

" _Potri pemtul nostrum_!" one man shouted. "For our land, our people!" The others joined in a united cry.

"Charge!" the man shouted at the top of his lungs, lifting his sword into the air as he dove head-first into the madness before him.

As the crowds of soldiers followed, he thrust his sword into his surrounding enemies.

He would let nothing stand in the way of reclaiming his ancestors' land.

An arrow flew to his horse's breast. He jolted into the air and fell to the ground in a frenzy, shaking and shuddering, as if he was having a seizure.

The man was thrown off. Another arrow flew his way and pierced into his chest.

"Altan!" the soldier nearest to him cried. He threw his sword to the ground as he rushed to his side.

He caught him and tore off a piece of his undershirt, tying it around his chest tightly in an effort to slow the blood flow, but it only entered his lungs, making him cough as the liquid was drowning him.

He looked around for a medic, a soldier--anyone who was willing to help.

"Killiç!" he shouted as he saw his friend. "Come help!"

Killiç ran to their side. The man looked into his eyes desperately as he held a dying Altan. "Enq, there's nothing we can do--"

"No, Killiç, we cannot let him die!" Enq interrupted. "He has a wife waiting for him to return home, not to mention that we are lost without him!"

Killiç took him from Enq and laid him down carefully. He felt for a pulse, only to hear him sigh and feel it stoop dramatically.

"Altan!" he yelled while shaking his shoulders, "Altan! Can you hear me?"

He was met with hazy eyes. Altan gasped for air. "My brothers," he heaved. "I have failed you."

Enq shushed him, trying to calm him down. "You are our brother, Altan, we cannot thank you enough. I promise we'll get you home to Ana."

Killiç's eyes narrowed. "Enq, do not make promises you can't keep," he hissed beneath his breath.

"Elien," Altan whispered with a smile. "Give her my love."

Enq grabbed him by the shoulders. "Altan, what do you mean?"

"My life is fading, _Estûn_. You have served our people well," he struggled to speak. "Take care of my son."

"Son?" Enq bitterly smiled. "And what if he is a girl?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood, but his voice wavered as a tear threatened to spill down his cheek.

"A son," Altan shook his head dismissively. "Not a girl. Alulf would be too disappointed." His breathing grew labored. He coughed up a stream of blood, and his hand reached for his throat. He convulsed violently.

"Killiç, do something!" Enq yelled as he panicked. Killiç took one last look at his brother-in-arms and picked up the sword he dropped. "Enq," he said in a hushed tone, "go."

Enq quickly got up to his feet and ran to his own horse, grabbing its reins. "What are you doing?"

 _Ürînmor. Death-Bringer. What a fitting name,_ he thought, twirling the sword in his hands. He brought it down over Altan's chest.

Enq stared at him in horror before reaching for his own sword, glaring at Killiç's blood-stained fingers. "What are you doing?" he screamed.

"You were the one wanting me to do something. I gave him a painless death!" he angrily exclaimed.

Enq gasped at the word, realizing what had happened. "No," he whispered. "No, no, no!"

Killiç shook his head. What had happened was over.

Another round of arrows rained upon them. Killiç dropped to the ground and picked up a shield belonging to one of his fallen brethren.

He brought it over his head and deflected the shower of arrows heading for Enq, pushing him away from the battle.

"Go!" he yelled. "It's not safe anymore! Take Altan and head for our hills."

"And what about you?" he asked. "What am I to tell Kîta if you do not return home?"

Killiç turned around. "Tell her to run for the hills. Sauron has betrayed us, and the Gondorians will undoubtedly raid our village."

He ran into the distance, fighting his enemies like a mad dog thrown into a fight.

 _Run?_ Enq wondered as he was running to the hills with a heavy Altan in his hands as he was told. _Where can we run, when there's nowhere to go?_

Enq gently placed Altan down, as he was tired and needed a break. He looked into the distance, only to see a crowd of men—Gondorian men, perhaps walking towards the village. What was going on?

"Halt!" he yelled to the men. "I said, halt!"

His calls were silenced by a stray arrow that pierced his chest.

>>>•<<<

**A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:**

J.R.R Tolkien probably mentioned some things about the Easterling language, but I don't have the materials, time, or patience to pay attention and record them all in this book, so I'll be making up random phrases as I go.

 **"TIRUN POSITII"  
** _/tee-rune poe-see-tee/  
_ "Hold your positions!"

 **"POTRI PEMTUL NOSTRUM"  
** _/poe-trree pehm-tooll noh-str-um/  
_ "For our land!"

 _ **Ürînmor  
** _ _/you-ringh-more/  
_ _"Death-Bringer"_

 **Estûn  
** _/es-tou-n/  
_ "Young Man"


	3. 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: As a fanfiction author, I do not own any of the characters created by J. R. R. Tolkien. However, I do own Hlíf and his family, and I have taken a lot of creative liberty when describing the Easterling way of life, as I haven't read much on it myself. I do hope to make it as close to what Tolkien may have desired as possible. (Looking back on this, it's probably making him roll in his grave.)

**"ELIEN," A FLUSTERED MIDWIFE SHOUTED** amongst the cries of a baby, "it is a boy!" She handed the small babe to an attendant that was to take him and bathe him.

"Thank _Hur'Iriga_ *," Elien shakily said, still holding her grip on the blood-stained bed before giving in and collapsing into the soft mattress with a groan. "It was never this hard with Alulf."

Yilkiz, Altan's mother stroked her hand as she looked out the window. "Alas, it is the night of the Winter Moon, dear. That cannot mean anything good for your son."

"Leave her be, _Ana_ ," a youthful voice filled the room as a young woman entered. "Do not fill her with your 'heathen-ish', Easterling nonsense." She crossed her arms and smirked.

"Oh, shush, Kîta. _Ana_ , what do you mean?"

"Babies born on a Winter Moon are full of mischievous magic, wrecking trouble wherever they go. They are backstabbers, liars, and cheats," she explained, crossing her arms.

Elien arched her eyebrow. "Are you sure we are not talking about wee Alulf?" she asked, peering at her worn-out, eight-year-old son, taking a nap by the fireplace in the corner. 

Kîta snorted. "That one is quite the trouble maker."

The Midwife's assistant was quick in her task. She had returned with her son, now mostly cleaned of her fluids, wrapped in cloth. She gently handed him to Elien, and the rest of the women gathered around to stare at the new member of the family before them.

"He is quite small," Elien quipped worriedly.

"Ah, do not worry, miss," she replied, "the smallest are always the greatest."

"Or the worst," mumbled Yilkiz. "But no one listens to old Yilkiz anyways."

Kîta stared her down.

"I am done!" Yilkiz threw her hands up in surrender as she got up to leave. "I am done with this house!"

" _Ana_! Don't go!" cried Elien. "I need you here!"

 _Ana_ turned around and glanced at Elien. "Dear, the only reason I am still here is that your husband is my son. I have done my duty; I will leave." She made her way towards the door of the poorly hut but she was in, looking at the shabbiness of her son's house.

"Good riddance," she muttered before storming out.

Something didn't feel right to Elien. What was going on? She heard a muffled scream from outside.

"Kîta, what is going on?" she asked, panicking.

Kîta glanced at Elien before running outside. Her shouts were quickly brought to an end, cut off by a man who swung his sword at her head.

She held her breath. What was going on out there?

She struggled to get off her bed, to grab her sons and hide in the blankets nearby. A stabbing pain shot through her stomach, and she fell to the ground with a loud cry.

Her cry wasn't unheard. Alulf was stirred from his sleep.

" _Ana_?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

Elien struggled to keep her tears at bay. "Alulf, grab the blanket near your brother," she instructed. "Wrap him up nicely. Take another blanket and pack it in the bag with the supplies."

The footsteps from outside grew nearer while Alulf jumped up and did as he was told.

" _Ana_ , why am I—"

"Listen, my son," she began, panic flooding in her voice. "Something is happening—something is changing, and I—I need you to take your brother and hide with him somewhere far away from here."

"But, _Ana_ —"

"Listen!" she hushed him. "Take care of your brother. Love him as I loved you—protect him as I protected you. Teach him what I have taught you, and don't forget your own lessons—they may very well come in handy some day."

Elien held Alfulf by his arms, pulling him into a hug and pressing a kiss against his forehead.

"My son," she began, "you will make us all proud one day." She smiled with tears in her eyes. "Now go. _Hur'Iriga fii tecum_ *.

Her whispered blessing floated around the room, like a hopeful dove flying for the heavens.

Alulf stood and stared at his mother, trying to memorize her big, round eyes and sweet, kind smile.

"I love you, _Ana_."

He ran out the back door, not thinking about how those were the last words he'd ever say to her.

He hid in the bushes near the creek by his home. A stifled scream came from the house.

Back in the house, Elien whispered a prayer on her lips as the men were drawing nearer to her.

What the men didn't see was that she was not one of the Easterling—not even one of the Haradrim. What they failed to see was that Elien was an Elf—her people had fought _with_ them, not against them. But what difference would that have made anyways?

With a swift swipe, her head was rolling on the floor.

Alulf's face was filled with horror as he saw the bloody men coming out the home.

"Say," one started in Westron, "did we not hear a crying Estîn here earlier?"

Alulf strained to hear the rough man's voice, but his small, limited knowledge of the language couldn't pick much up anyways. His eavesdropping was cut short by the cries of his brother.

Alulf's eyes widened. _Oh no,_ he thought. He hushed his brother, rocking him from side to side. _Please don't cry._

"Over there!" another shouted. "Fresh footprints."

The men ran in the direction of the footprints—leading them straight to Alulf and the baby—and stared at them. Or, more accurately, through them. 

His breath hitched as he froze. He'd been caught!

The leader of the men shook his head. "There's nothing here," he spoke in Westron. "Perhaps the footprints lead somewhere else."

And with that, the men ran off in a different direction.

Alulf released the breath he didn't know he was holding. He picked up the bag hidden in the bushes, swung it over his shoulder, adjusted his brother, and started running into the forest near the mountains as fast as his little legs could carry him.

He finally came to a stop by a creek. He laid his brother down on a patch of grass nearby. He rushed towards the clear water, but he tripped and tumbled down the banks. He scraped his knee, but he didn't care. He just needed water.

What would he do? He couldn't care for a baby on his own. He wanted his _Ana_. He hadn't even had the chance to grow up yet. And where was _Ava_? _Ana_ said he had gone off to fight—to do his duty as the chieftain of the Kulîn Easterlings. Somehow, Alulf had a sinking feeling that _Ava_ would never return.

 _Ana_ had told him that if something happened to _Ava_ , he'd be in charge as the new chieftain. Would he even have a people to lead? Or was everyone else killed off like _Ana_ and Kîta?

So, here he was—stuck in a dark forest with a baby in his hands—powerless and homesick. But, he wouldn't let himself be distracted by his own worries. He had a baby to take care of.

Cupping his soft cheek into his hands, he tried to peer into his shut eyes. How had the men not seen them? They were clearly in plain sight. 

He remembered what _Nanaa_ Yilkiz had said while he was half-asleep.

_"Babies born on a Winter Moon are full of mischievous magic..."_

He stared in awe at the little bundle of flesh and fat in his arms. Could he have? No. It was impossible. The Kûlin had driven out any wielders of magic long ago. He shook his head. There would be time for speculation. For now, their survival was more important.

The clean, spring water dribbled down his chin as he gulped it down, gasping for air in between. His brother gave a cry. Alulf grabbed a cloth from the bag of supplies and wet it with water. He stooped down and cleaned his face of the flecks of mud they had encountered on their way while escaping. He rinsed out the rag and let it soak again, this time, giving it to him to suckle on. He hoped the child would make the night.

Alulf lifted him up and held him in his arms, cradling the small being. He looked up to the lofty trees in the forest, and then, past the canopy to the stars. He felt so alone without mother and father.

His eyes turned to the babe in his arms. What about him? Alulf knew it might've been hasty of him to grow attached to a baby that might not even live past three months. But he made a promise to his mother, and he'd keep it. 

What would his name be? He didn't look like an Altulf**. He didn't look like a Bori either. Then it hit him.

"May Hur'Iriga protect you, Hlíf, as you will protect us and our people."

Alulf knew that he had just uttered the most grownup-sounding words he'd ever said in his life; he knew his time as a child wasn't a priority anymore and that he wasn't the only one depending on his help for survival. 

And while Alulf seemed to have grown up that day, he didn't quite think his words would be so prophetic. 

>>>•<<<

 **NOTES** :

 **REMEMBER** , this is a **FANFICTION** , meaning that I will not have everything perfect in regards to the book and the movie. I am writing this for entertainment. I am also taking creative liberties when referring to the Easterling language and culture.

* _Hur'Iriga_ refers to this specific tribe's god. Hur-Iriga translates to Eru, so if you guys have heard of Eru-Iluvatar (however it's spelled) they're one and the same.

**I don't remember exactly, but I read somewhere that Easterling children (which I have taken the creative license of referring to as Estîn in the singular form, Estînii in the plural) tend to take the names of their fathers with the suffix altered a bit. If you guys can't tell, Alulf and Hlíf's father is Altan, so the basic, go-to name would be, in my opinion, Altulf.

 **OTHER** :

 **ANA**  
 _/ah-nah/_  
mother

 **AVA**  
 _/ah-vah/_  
father

 **"HUR'IRIGA FII TECUM."**  
 _/who-rr ee-rree-gah fee teh-coom/_  
Eru be with you.

 **NANAA**  
 _/nah-naah/_  
grandmother

** FUN FACTS: **

Hlíf's name means protection in a Norse dialect.

Hlíf was originally gonna be named Finn, but I don't know what came over me. So, yeah.


End file.
